


Costumes

by TheLifeOfEmm



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeOfEmm/pseuds/TheLifeOfEmm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley was really scraping the bottom of the barrel where Halloween costumes were concerned. The result is about what you might expect. Aziraphale/Crowley slash, ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Costumes

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had the draft of this ficlet stored in my phone since last Halloween; in honor of NaNoWriMo, and my goal to finish as many stories as possible this month, here it is.

"This is the last time I let you buy the Halloween costumes," said Aziraphale baldly.

"Don't look at me," Crowley grumbled. "I told you weeks ago we needed to go shopping, but did you listen? This was all they had left. Poetic justice, really."

Aziraphale regarded the skimpy red dress with some trepidation.

"I'm not drunk enough to wear this," he muttered, pulling on the black fishnet tights Crowley had tossed him.

Meanwhile, the demon regarded his costume in the mirror. "You're telling me," he said darkly. "White is just not my color."

"But at least you get _stockings_ ," Aziraphale lamented. "I feel like a - like a lady of the evening or something." He shrugged into the tight dress with a grimace. The dress, for its part, was surprised to find that it fit the well-rounded man perfectly, where a moment ago that would have been an anatomic impossibility.

Crowley pulled at the fur-trimmed hem which fell barely to the middle of his thighs.

"That's the _point_ , angel. They're supposed to be revealing."

"Yes, well," the angel sniffed, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up further on his nose. "That's all well and good for _some_ of us. I, however, have a reputation to maintain."

"And yet," Crowley commented, twirling in front of the mirror, "you're wearing it anyway."

Aziraphale crossed to the mirror, nudging the demon out of the way with his hip and settling the red plastic horns amidst his blonde curls.

"I am at that," he said, his voice suggesting that he didn't quite know why. He looked up to find Crowley positively gaping.

"What?" he asked, a touch self-consciously.

"You look -" Crowley licked his lips nervously.

"Stupid?" Aziraphale suggested.

"Sssssexy," Crowley finished at the same time.

"Oh." A faint blush spread across the angel's cheeks. "You don't look half-bad yourself."

In fact, Crowley looked _good_. The knee-high socks clung to his calves, and the skimpy dress fit his male corporation in a manner which was positively sinful, the matching halo tilted coquettishly to the side. Aziraphale did not think he'd ever considered the standard angelic wear especially appealing, but Crowley wore it like Lust incarnate.

"Er," he stammered. "That is - Tell me dear, how important is it we go to this costume party tonight?"

"Um." The angel could see in Crowley's face that the demon had had precisely the same idea. "I can make it so we were never invited, if you like."

"I think," Aziraphale said deliberately, "that I would much rather stay in tonight."

Crowley took him by the hand. "An excellent idea, angel."

Outside the bookshop, an observant passerby might have noticed the window shades closing of their own accord.

 

 


End file.
